


Jumping the gun

by nanye_i_arato_angaina



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Episode: s03e20 The Angel of San Bernardino, Work In Progress, still very much a
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-27 21:58:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18747907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanye_i_arato_angaina/pseuds/nanye_i_arato_angaina
Summary: A very, very sleep deprived devil reveals something he hadn't quite meant to





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rewatching while waiting for s4 (one. day. more.), I had an idea. I meant to write down a summary of the idea, but instead spent the next two hours writing instead of working on finals. It's still very raw and mostly unedited, and is likely to stay that way until I am done with finals. Goes au from ep. 3.20, The Angel of San Bernadino (quotes and things taken directly from the show)
> 
> Edit 5-9: still unedited, still haven't seen s4 (so no spoilers!), now with a second chapter!

She drags him into an empty interrogation room because he is self destructing in a bad way, and he tells her the whole truth, even though she won’t believe him, because she asks him to, and she yells back a bit, and he’s so on edge that he actually whips the wings out right in front of her, not quite sure if he actually meant to, in the precinct, though nobody else can see them (the lights are on in the observation room so they can see it’s empty, she knows how this works).

But now, she stares. _It’s true_ , she whispers, _it’s all true_. And he puts the wings away again, because while they may not cause the mind-numbing terror naturally inspired by his face, the implication of them, he thinks, should be enough to do the one thing he really doesn’t want to do, the reason he keeps stalling his reveal: he thinks he knows how she will react, and he doesn’t want their relationship, as odd and sometimes (currently) strained as it is, to end, and he takes that as a foregone conclusion.

Linda's reaction after her confrontation with his Mother had given him hope at the time that maybe she would react favorably as well, but the longer he thought about it after his kidnapping, as he tried to fit the pieces together, the less it seemed like a good idea.

But he was just. So. Tired. And desperate for her to believe him, just this once, if not about the angel of San bernadino then at least about Cain, because there was no way in hell (ha) that she would accept his word about his real identity without proof but the only proof he could offer was the truth about himself, and so that was what he would give her (there was also no way in hell that say, stabbing Cain in the back and telling her look, he’ll be fine would fly in any way, shape, or form).

So he stood in front of her, feeling the effects of sleep deprivation to a much higher degree than he had alone in his loft, and waiting desperately for her to say something else, to see if she would react like Linda, like Charlotte, like the black market salesman who had gotten his grabby human hands on his original set. But like always, she reacted like herself and only herself.

She sat down, hard, onto one of the chairs but continued to stare right at him, blinking far faster than normal but not catatonic, not as far as he could tell. He could almost see the thoughts behind her wide blue eyes, making the leaps and connections like she did for every new piece of information gained while working a case. Which, he wondered, would be first question she needed answered, the truth that was the most pressing?

* * *

_Pierce is not who he says he is, says Lucifer who has always said exactly who he is even knowing I wouldn’t believe him, but he kept telling me that he was a devil of his word,_ forged in hell to torture souls for all eternity _therefore Maze the roommate from hell was actually literally_ from hell _and she was upset because Lucifer wouldn’t take her home_ to hell _and Trixie loved her, she loved her,_ you don’t let your girl go into enemy territory alone _and_ no one calls my skank a skank _and did that mean Linda knew? Did Ella? Charlotte? Dan? Amenadiel? Amenadiel, Lucifer’s brother, who tried to convince her it was a trick, because he knew it wasn’t, who was there at the oddest times when he was away, after she was poisoned,_ that makes one of us, oh he did, I got better, you look heaven-sent, God-given, I’m afraid _, right since the beginning, he had told her right from the start and she had believed him enough to shoot him (barely, just a graze, because she might have been crazy but not stupid) but he had bled, y_ ou make me vulnerable as well, ignore them, trust your instincts, you make me a better detective, I only hope he can rely on me as much as I rely on him, will you go to the prom with me _, the puzzle, the curse from his father, Cain was cursed by God for murdering his brother, even she knew that, but he said Pierce is Cain and he never lies but how can that be true but how can he have wings, she'd seen his naked back, marred by enormous, gnarled scars, the wings were_ back _he said –_

* * *

“Are wings like body hair?”

And that was definitely not what he was expecting; how much had time had Linda and the Detective been spending together? But she shook her head as soon as she asked it.

“No – I mean – you said you couldn’t show me, but you tried to show me _something_ after we came back from the desert, but – what the hell, Lucifer?”

“Precisely, Detective.”

She shot him the same look she always did when he made an inappropriate quip to lighten the mood at each crime scene that broke her heart, and maybe, despite her current verbosity, she actually was fine. And that tiny thread of hope was enough for him to lose his own tentative control that he had wrestled back while she was thinking.

“I have never lied to you. Perhaps I concealed the whole truth when you continued in your disbelief, even I knew you had your limits as to what you would be willing to put up with from me. But right now, I am the one who has reached a limit, and I don’t know if I am actually going around performing angelic deeds in my sleep, thanks to those-" he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder “-or if I am just being manipulated into thinking I have been, and I am sorry to shatter your cozy understanding of how the universe actually is, I am, but I have had it. I have had enough of looking for manipulation in everything my mother was doing, what my brother does, Mazikeen does, whatever my Father has planned with you, and I would appreciate it if you would, for once, take me seriously when I say things are all about me, because as the Devil, sometimes they actually are.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was as soft as his was harsh with distress, and that wasn’t actually what he’d meant, it wasn’t _her_ fault he continued to ignore advice from Dr. Linda that he did know was sound, as much as he pretended otherwise. He scrubbed his hands through his hair again and sat heavily in the chair on the other side of the table. He spent the next few moments looking between his hands and the Detective’s face, catching just enough movement of her eyes to be sure she was doing the same.

He didn’t realise he’d nodded off until he jerked his head up at the sound of her calling his name, somehow even now exactly that same way she always said it, like the habit of it outweighed the baggage that she now knew came with it.

“Has it really been a week since you last slept?”

“Yes.” And now it was his voice that was scarcely above a whisper.

“This is not the best time for this.”

“I know, Detective, but at that particular moment, it was imperative that you believed me, to the exclusion of all else.”

“You meant to tell me earlier, when Linda was in the hospital, yeah? _This_ -" she waved over in the direction of the space over his shoulders “-is what that voicemail was about?”

“Yes.”

“And you couldn’t show me _this_ in Ella’s lab, a couple days later?”

He hesitated, apparently looked pained enough that she drew in an enormous breath and shook her head.

“No, you’re right, it’s still not really the time. You need to sleep, and I need to- to- probably not operate heavy machinery for a while, I’ll have Dan bring Trixie here and we can work on-"

Someone was snoring louder than she was speaking, and then…

* * *

Lucifer Morningstar slumped into his hands on the shiny chromish surface of the table, snoring. Her partner, her friend, Satan himself. Physically incapable of keeping his eyes open because he hadn’t slept for a week, binge watching Bones and God only knew what else, though it probably had involved a great deal of people in various states of undress and chemical stimulants of varying legality.

She remembered the great white wings, mantling above his head, suddenly filling the room with a gust of wind, and disappearing just as suddenly.

But he still looked like he always did, if considerably more disheveled, and he was clearly hurting in some way that she had only been making worse by denying its reality. But he needed to sleep, and she needed to solve a murder, regardless of what truth bombs had been dropped on her. So she put it out of her head, and tried to focus. Lucifer was having a hard time of things and sitting this part, at least, out. She dispatched Dan to retrieve Trixie, and herself to perusing the website of the acting company and assorted other paperwork, and tried very hard to only think of that.

* * *

He startled awake again at the sound of his name in the Detective’s voice, aware that far more time had passed.

“I have a lead, if you feel up to it, but I have something to show you first.”

He consulted his phone; _hours_ had passed. But he pulled himself to his feet and followed her. Not to the elevators, but simply around to the observation room. The computer was queued up and paused with – him, sleeping. She hit play, and fast-forwarded through what looked to be the entire time he was asleep. Video-Lucifer barely looked like he was breathing.

“If we hear about any more angelic visitations, now we know it wasn’t you, at least not this time.”

His eyes stung, and something inside his chest twisted, and _why had he not just told her sooner_.

 _If you think I don’t know who you really are by now, you’re wrong_ , she'd said. _I’m here for you_ , she'd said, more than once, and maybe she wasn’t the only one who had been willfully ignorant of the truth, and so, so mistaken. She smiled and gave his hands a gentle squeeze, before turning back to close down the computer, giving him a moment to wipe his eyes, to get his shirt properly buttoned, to try and pull himself together.

“After you, then, Detective,” he said, stepping forward to open the door.


	2. Chapter 2

They go to the fake husband's house together, because Chloe is focusing so hard on things being normal so she can function, she still tells him to chill (but, as usual, only after he gets her the information she needs), and the information that he gets, as usual, illuminates a personal problem he has, but this time, he’s had a nap and told her the truth and she’s still there, tugging on his arm to get him to put their suspect down, like she doesn’t know that he could break her just as easily, and that means that whatever plot, whomever is plotting it, it’s failed, because she’s _still here_. He’s still angry, of course he’s angry, but she believes him, and right now that’s more important. They close the case.

Now it’s time to talk.

A couple hours of sleep doesn’t make up for a week of deprivation, but he’s functional enough, and anyway, the Detective is owed some answers to the questions he knows she has. He considers asking her to take them to Lux, but it’s definitely his territory, and he doesn’t want to make her feel any more threatened than is probably going to end up happening, regardless of how rationally she’s reacted so far.

But he’d forgotten that the child was still at the precinct, colouring crime scene photographs at Daniel’s desk. And while he knew that he would cut off a limb (one that he actually wanted to keep) before allowing any harm to come to the child, he suddenly wasn’t sure if the Detective knew that.

“Sorry I missed pizza, Monkey, but how about we get some ice cream now? Lucifer and I are going to have a talk, so we’ll have to take it home.”

That heavy, twisting feeling in his chest was back.

It persisted as the three of them said their good nights, as they all piled into the car, as they stopped for gallon cartons of ice cream, as they ate it in front of the fireplace in the Detective’s house.

It got stronger as he listened to her reading the child a bedtime story, and then he heard her whisper.

“You know Lucifer always tells the truth, right, Monkey?”

“Yeah,” was the sleepy reply. He had to blink rapidly a few times to keep his own eyes open (that was the _only_ reason) – what kind of soporific was in this sofa?

“So.”

Such a beginning did not tell him much about how the conversation was going to go, but he pulled himself up and forward to try and avoid dozing off in the middle of it. But where to actually begin? _In the beginning…_? The deal he'd made with Amenadiel, some seven years ago now? Delilah’s murder? Cain showing up?

She sat down in the middle of the sofa, not at the opposite end, but after dragging him home with the child in close proximity all evening, he was hardly surprised. He was still sure, though, that _something_ would set her off, that some part of his heretofore secret - to her - past would be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“So.”

“So Maze really is a demon ‘forged in the bowels of hell’, Amenadiel is your brother because he’s actually an angel, and Charlotte is… actually your step mom? Is there anybody else I know who’s not-so-secretly a supernatural being?”

“Yes, to Mazikeen and my brother, but Charlotte is… a bit more complicated.”

The Detective had on that expression she wore whenever she told him she was there for him, the open, ‘I’m all ears’ one that he was beginning to hope that he would be able to take her up on in the future, since she would believe him. So her told her the story of his mother’s escape from hell and banishment to another universe, and the real Charlotte’s subsequent return.

“Charlotte knows? Do a lot of people believe you?”

“Never fear, Detective, most people don’t. Charlotte was fearing for her sanity, and Linda was getting frustrated with what she thought were my metaphors, but they, like you, would not believe me without proof. I fear my brother and I have been less than circumspect around Daniel, but I believe he still chalks it up to my ‘Luciferness', and Miss Lopez apparently believes I am the world’s worst method actor. I am not sure about your offspring, child that she is.”

“She believes you, but she also believes in the Tooth Fairy, so make of that what you will.” There was a little curl in the corner of her mouth that might have been a poorly concealed smile.

“Lying to your children is bad form, Detective.”

But she clearly caught the glint of amusement in his eye and smiled back for real.

He hesitated before continuing, well aware of the one person he was avoiding mentioning.

* * *

It all felt so normal, sitting on her couch and talking, that she was having kind of a hard time remembering just how strange her world had become. But nothing had changed, really, just her perception of it, and whenever she found herself wondering “but what about _that_ ” the answer was nearly always “ _yes_ , Lucifer had told her.” Though there was a great deal of reconsidering the things she hadn’t believed, including how he left some of their suspects gibbering, terrified messes after only a moment or two.

Anybody with enough leverage could bring someone else to tears – she'd had a prison warden pleading with her like the six-fingered man with Inigo Montoya – but Lucifer frequently managed it so fast. But she couldn't blame him for not wanting to show her that side of himself.

Now the side of himself that he was showing was one she rarely saw: uncertain. She thought she probably knew why: the elephant in the room. Or rather the world’s first murderer.

And she had been avoiding that box of worms too. Because if Lucifer had only told her the truth, then Pierce had only lied to her. The man she had been slowly but surely falling for – did she know anything true about him? She only knew his name because Lucifer had half shouted it at her, manic from desperation and lack of sleep. She was fiercely glad that she had been so hesitant to introduce him to Trixie while trying to wrap her head around the fact that the _original fallen angel_ had let her nine year old paint a unicorn on his cheek.

“Was anything Pierce said true?” she asked quietly, like the sound of his name might summon him. But no, it was _speak of the devil_ , and the devil was already in her house, the devil who made deals with the people of the City of Angels (ha!) and who left dust from his Cool Ranch Puffs in her car after stakeouts.

“It’s possible, given that I haven’t heard everything he’s said to you, but yes, a great deal of, well, everything he said was untrue.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“And I apologize for keeping the proof from you. I was concerned about your reaction, and I didn't want to bring about the end of our partnership. So, apparently, you weren’t the only one who needed to have more faith in your partner.”

“Oh, Lucifer,” she sighed, closing the already small space between them to wrap her arms around his shoulders. She felt his hands creep around her sides, and she hummed, pleased, sinking into the hug. She closed her eyes, feeling remarkably at peace with who she was essentially snuggled up with – wasn’t there an expression like _in bed with the devil_? She made herself a mental note to never say that out loud around her partner, the actual devil, the lord of hell and also the lord of innuendo at the most inappropriate times.

She tucked her feet up beside her on the couch, and then noticed that the gentle breaths in her ear had turned to gentle snores. She felt around for the throw blanket hanging over the back of the couch, spread it over their laps as best she could with one hand, and rested her head back on his shoulder. The Morning Star gave really excellent hugs.

She followed him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been aaaaaaages since I wrote anything that I wanted to share, thanks for reading, bye


End file.
